


MacDaddy AU - From A Whisper to A Scream

by AbbyDebeaupre



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: BDSM, Curious!Claire, Dom!Jamie, F/M, M/M, MacDaddy Collection, NSFW, Naughty!Jamie, Open explorations of sexuality and, Smutlets, Spank Me and Don't Be Gentle, Whisper to A Scream, confused!john
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyDebeaupre/pseuds/AbbyDebeaupre
Summary: MacDaddy BDSM AU Dom!Jamie Curious!Claire and occasionally Confused!John





	1. Whisper to A Scream - Mac Daddy One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is a total boss at work but relieves the high stress of that job by joining an exclusive club. Jamie's a Dom and she's a sub.

Claire knew she needed to stop. She was standing in the dispensary eyeing the opioid shelf with a longing that cut through the fog and haze that had enveloped her since Frank broke off their engagement six months ago. Somehow she hasn’t noticed the degree to which her life had fallen  apart and, up until this moment, she hadn’t found the energy to put it back together. At work, she was in absolute command of her OR from the moment she scrubbed in until the moment she left the hospital at the end of her shift, but the rest of her life was creening over a cliff. Nothing was going right. **  
**

She had one indulgence, the pub on the corner. She went there pretty much every night after work.  It was within crawling distance of her bed and anonymous. Claire could spend hours– and often did– tucked into her bar stool in the corner with Gabe replenishing her drink at regular intervals. Claire loved the taste of the first splash of whisky on her tongue just as much as the last drop at the end of the night.

In the dimly lit room it didn’t matter that her personal life was a mess. No one cared that her fiance walked out on her, or about the piles of mail that lay unopened on the top of the pile of packing boxes she hadn’t bothered to open since her move to her studio apartment. No one nagged her to do something about the empty fridge or sink full of dishes. No one had any expectations of her. No one was there to sooth her fears in this unstable, frightening world. No arms held her deep in the night to reassure her that she wasn’t alone.

Frank had understood her needs. Fifteen years older than she he quieted her mind, subdued her, helped her find her balance. But he didn’t want her anymore. His parting salvo had been nothing short of cruel– designed to scar her as it surely had. “Who’s your Daddy?” He’d asked at the height of their last shouting match. Thinking the worst of their fight over, Claire smiled through her tears and gave him the answer she always did. “You are and I’m your girl!” He speared her with his dark brown eyes and his mouth came up in a sneer, “Not any longer. Pack your bags, I want you out by the time I come back.”

At work she had to be in control of herself, her emotions, her surgical team, a figure of authority, but not at home. The relief  on not having to be in control reduced some of the stress she carried on her narrow shoulders but she needed so much more, craved what she’d been missing with a visceral ache felt deep in her bones. One night she found herself drunk, making out with a guy whose name she didn’t remember. He’d been arrogant, domineering and exactly what she thought she needed. Pressed up against brick in the back alley way at closing time, she whispered to him.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” She felt his meaty hands grip her breasts as he ground his crotch into her. He smelled of cigarettes and cheap red wine.

“Do?” He asked, then his hands came down hard on her shoulders. “Get on your knees, bitch.” He shoved her forcefully down onto the pavement. The jolt of pain in her right knee made her cry out. She felt scummy and seedy and she suddenly detested what her life had become. He hadn’t understood what she needed and one thing was crystal clear: this wasn’t what she’d wanted at all.

“No!” Claire sobered enough to push and run.

She hadn’t returned to the bar in days. Her skin was on fire, her mind completely cluttered by indecision and confusion. She needed an outlet for her feelings, a better way to let off steam and relax.  Which is why, as she was staring at row after row of pills, suddenly tempted by something so wrong, some instinct in her had her flee the room immediately, making a promise to herself that she wouldn’t continue down this road anymore.  

Claire found Geillis Duncan at the coffee shop frequented by hospital staff.  Geillis had gone to medical school with her and Claire knew she could talk– really talk to Geillis. Seeing the look on her face, Geillie dismissed her table companions and sat her down and held her hands as Claire poured out the whole story from start to end and confessed the worst of her recent behavior.

“You know I am going to tell you to at least cut down on the drinking.” Claire nodded, she felt immeasurably better just sharing her story. She was ready for a change. “You haven’t had an easy time of it lately, Claire. Frank gave you a little of what you needed, but to be honest he was an amature and a wanker to boot. You drink to give yourself permission to let go of the illusion of being in control of your life. I am going to recommend something….. Feel free to not take my advice. But I suspect this might be what you need.” She handed Claire a small book of matches. Claire stared at it, wondering when the last time had been since she’d seen a book of matches as a promo item.

_Whisper to a Scream_

“What’s this?” Claire was baffled.

“A special kind of club. Become a member– it will cost you dear but beats ruining your career by giving in to the wrong kind of temptation. It’s a very exclusive crowd. You’ll meet people like you, who can help you. You start by creating a profile. They will ask you many questions– about your likes, preferences– limits- what you are ok with, want to try and what is off the table. You’ll start in large chat rooms, meeting your selected matches online, chatting privately and then, after a couple of weeks when you have narrowed your choices down and gotten to know other members, there will be an in-person gathering where you’ll mingle. They have a sort of demonstration and open market during the mixer so you can experiment with new…pleasures.” Seeing her wide eyed stare, Geillie shrugged. “Honestly Claire, you’re a sub, didn’t you ken that? Think of  _Whispers_  as a place where you can let go of all your inhibitions and be free and safe. You don’t need to be the one in charge, if you don’t want to be.”  

Claire had almost talked herself out of going tonight. But she’d had an eye opening two weeks in chat rooms. She’d learned quite a lot about herself – her own preferences, things she’d never put into conscious thought. Most of all, she’d not been tempted by drugs or alcohol once in all that time. She’d even stopped needing to Google so many unfamiliar terms and phrases. Membership required she pay sum that made her feel guilty enough that she was determined to see it through.

She’d always been curious about BDSM, who wasn’t a little bit? She had no idea such clubs existed so nearby nor the careful matchmaking that went on behind the scenes even before folk met in person. Claire was particularly eager to meet the man with the user name  _Mac Dubh._

They’d begun together as part of a larger group chat but in the last week  _Mac Dubh_  had been DMing the  _Sassenach_ with reassuring frequency. He was flirtatious and courteous online. Claire had been most surprised by the lack of sexual topics in their conversations. They had, of course, discussed what they were into, boundaries, likes and dislikes (many of which Claire had to confess she was curious about but never tried) but by and large they’d talked novels, travel experiences, art and music.

She’d gone from reluctantly going home at the end of the day to eagerly inserting her key into the lock so she could kick off her shoes and chat with  _Mac Dubh_.  They’d not face-timed nor spoken directly that was forbidden until tonight. It was all part of the experience of reward and denial that was pulling her deeper into it’s seductive web.   

As she smoothed the black dress down her hips she squared her shoulders and walked in, telling herself at the very least she’d have a good laugh. She was pleased to see she wore  the appropriate attire–not too formal and not too casual. Classical piano was being played live in the formal great room, the crowd was light but there was a swell of people just entering along with her. She donned her light green bracelet, placed it, as instructed on her left wrist where it was joined by a yellow one.

“Green means you are a sub, yellow means you want to be in a relationship, the left wrist means you have been a member of the club for less than a year.” The man told her as he snapped the dangling ends ensuring a snug fit.

Claire nodded and tried not to stare like some wide-eyed numpty– which she undeniably was. There were clusters of conversation, several live demonstrations in various alcoves- including a rather interesting one on proper knot tying. Intrigued she watched, unconsciously rubbing her own left wrist where the bracelets chaffed in her imagination. He’d noticed her right away and his cock grew half hard when her fingertips slipped under her bracelet. She had no idea how much her face gave away.

He’d been hoping to meet the  _Sassenach_  whom he’d spent the better part of a week getting to know. The lass’s coloring matched her profile. He really should mingle –it was the fastest way to find her. Yet, this woman kept catching his eye and he couldn’t help but follow her as she made a careful circuit of the room.  He noticed that she visibly shuddered when she saw someone in a ball gag and her mouth made a mou of distaste when she got a load of Louis’s mistress wearing a dress that exposed the long rods that pierced through her nipples. Her step faltered when she passed by the butt plugs and she was interested enough in the lubes to open a few bottles and sample for scent and feel.

As she fingered the blindfolds and blushed at the cock rings, he made up his mind. He wanted her and he made his move. Almost an hour after arriving, Claire still hadn’t spotted anyone who fit her image of  _Mac Dubh_. She’d had a fascinating time even so and had been placed considerably at ease by how normal everyone seemed. For all that it was a fetish club, it’s clientele were men and women very much like her.

She’d just ordered a Bowmore when a man spoke over her shoulder, “I’ll have what the lady ordered.” Claire shivered when she heard the accent. She lived in Scotland, she heard it everywhere but the deep rumble of this man’s voice shot to her belly exactly like the drink. When she turned around she found she wasn’t disappointed by his looks either.

He wore tight black pants and boots, a simple black shirt, neatly tucked in with a small gap around his collar, revealing a hint of reddish chest hair that matched the tresses flowing past his shoulders. She glanced briefly at his hands. Navy blue and yellow bands on his right wrist, an experienced dom, looking for more than a one night stand. So far, so good; they were a match that way at least.

His blue eyes locked on hers and the smile he gave her turned her knees to jelly. He noticed that, she could tell by a preternatural stillness that stole over his features. So when he inclined his head over to the side inviting her to step away from the bar, she nodded at once. Claire felt his hand shadowing her waist as he gestured for her to go ahead of him, a chivalrous move that discomposed her. She thought that as a sub she’d be expected to follow, not lead. She had a lot to learn about this culture.

At sea again, and not sure what she was supposed to do, she didn’t know where to look. When she cast her eye around the room it rested on a demonstration of flogging off in a far corner, she blushed immediately and fastened her gaze on his collarbone not meeting his eyes.

“First time?” He said with a laugh. Claire blushed again.

“That obvious?”

“Aye.” He used his index finger under her chin to gently guide her face upwards so they were looking at each other.“And I canna be calling ye newbie. What’s yer name, lass?”

Claire found she wasn’t as prepared as she should have been for the question. Should she tell him her real name? Her profile name? Her eyes darted about once again and she spotted a man holding a Starbucks coffee mug.

“Susan.” She blurted, making eye contact again. “W-what’s yours?”  She saw his eyes follow her gaze.

“Bob.” He said with a chuckle in his voice.

“I’ve never seen anyone less likely to be a Bob than you.” She blurted, making him laugh out loud.

“Well, Susan I thought our relationship had only advanced as far as giving each other our fake Starbucks Names.” He chidded.

“How did you know?” She cried out, clearly flustered and miffed. Oh but he was enjoying himself immensely.

“Ye arena good at subterfuge, lass. Ye looked at yon mannie wi’ the mug and ye blushed. ‘Twas clear the name wasna from the thin blue sky but wasna yours either. Come, now, tell me what ye really want me to call ye?”

“My user profile is  _Sassenach_.” His heart sped up and he smiled at her.

“Yer saying it all wrong lass, the a-c-h isna a “cha” sound but an hard “c” sassenach” The way he said it sent shivers down her spine.

“Only proving that I am exactly what the name implies– I am definitely a stranger in a strange land.”

“I’m  _Mac Dubh_.” He was gratified to see her answering smile and the way her eyes lit up.

“I have been looking all over for you!” She scolded.

“Have ye now?” The look he gave her caused her breath to hitch in her throat. “I’m glad to hear it, Sassenach. I’m Jamie Fraser.”

His hand enveloped his and he surprised both of them by leaning in and giving her a light kiss on the lips.

“Jamie?” She whispered, “Aren’t I supposed to call you Master or Sir?”

Jamie laughed uproariously at that.  “No. A true dom earns the right to be called such and if I have to force ye acknowledge my place in yer life, then I’ve no’ done my duty by ye.”

“Claire Beauchamp.” She told him. “My real name, I mean.”

“Well Ms. Beauchamp, I noticed ye walked around earlier. Have ye been upstairs?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Up–upstairs? But we’ve only just met,” She blushed. He laughed softly in her ear, a sound so quiet she was the only one who heard.

“Aye, and I’ll no’ touch a single beautiful curl until ye want me to, mo nighean donn. There are observation rooms up there– folk who like to be watched and role plays put on by the club, ye ken? We’ve discussed all manner of things over the last week or so but it sounded like ye hadn’t much experience. I thought if you could see it in person you might be able to set your own limits better.”

“Well, when in Rome….” Claire placed her hand in his.

While Claire watched couples and threesomes, Jamie watched Claire. A few of the rooms were open and allowed observers walk up close in the same room as the role players. Claire didn’t like those rooms.  She preferred the ones with the separate hidden spaces and one-way mirrors. Comfortably ensconced behind glass, darkened dim lighting, away from the prying eyes of other guests she felt freer to look her fill. She hadn’t let go his hand yet and so he became hyper aware of her body’s reaction to what she was seeing.  

When they came to a spanking scene her hand tightened in his. He asked her to wait a moment and left the hidden room. When he came back he closed the door and quietly locked it. He’d arranged to have the room for just the two of them now.

He saw her breasts rise and fall with every audible slap and smack woman’s bottom. She shook her head when he softly asked if she wanted to sit in the chairs and instead boldly walked up to the partition and gave the actors her rapt attention. He heard her moan when she saw the man’s fingers linger and delve deep into the woman’s crease. Jamie let go her hand and moved behind her, she could feel his warm breath on the side of her neck and strained upward. He took her hair in his hand and lifted it off the back of her neck.

“May I?” He asked. She didn’t respond. “Sassenach, I asked ye a question.” He said firmly. Her eyes peeled away from the spanking and over her shoulder.

“This relationship takes trust, honesty, communication. I canna read yer mind, lass. If ye dinna tell me what my limits are, I might do ye real harm. I dinna want to do anything with without consent. Yer a sub no’ a doormat and I need ye to be a true partner wi’ me in this. I get no joy from forcing ye to do anything– I canna be that kind of man. Ever. Tell me yes or tell me no, but respect this partnership so we both get what we need. So, may I?”

Claire had never really thought of it this way. It seemed obvious what each of them were doing, what they wanted and needed but actually it wasn’t that simple. He wasn’t a dom because he needed or even liked to hurt people. It was a shared experience and his of her and hers of him were equally critical to that relationship.

“Yes, I want you to touch me.” She whispered and turned her face back to the mirror.

“If ye want me to stop, use the traffic light system. Red is stop, yellow is slow down or ease up, aye?” She nodded, simple enough, after all.

Jamie blew on her exposed skin, his hand soft as a butterfly’s wings, fingertips running up her exposed arm. She gasped when she felt his teeth replace the air. She leaned her head back into the bite and moaned. He dropped her hair back down and his other hand came firmly around her middle, pressing her against him, hand splayed over her stomach. His mouth fastened over her ear and she squeeked.

“Shh, Sassenach. I ken how much ye like it.” Her nipples were sharp and hard and brushed against the fingertips that lightly and discretely stroked her chest. A forefinger and thumb pinched one sharply and she moaned pushing her hips hard against the erection she felt.

“Not another sound, Claire.” He told her pinching hard enough to make her gasp. His hands and body backed abruptly away from her. “Dinna break the rules, lass.” He said with a firm edge to his tone.

Her breathing was harsh and he could hear it from where he stood, well away from her. The couple in the spanking room continued to act out their play but Claire wasn’t interested in them at the moment. He had her full attention. She reached her hand out and touched his arm. He looked at her and she raised a brow. He nodded permission for her to speak.

“I got carried away.” She said by way of explanation. “Will you give me another chance?”

She held eye contact with him, which he decided to reward by walking back toward her. He twisted her so she was facing the glass again.   

“It’s yer first time so I will make allowances.” He got his mouth right up against her ear. “You make the loveliest noises, Claire, did you know that?” He felt her shake her head hard. “And I love hearing them knowing how I make ye feel.” She felt his voice cut through her. She sagged in relief as his body rubbed firmly against hers once more. “But I own every single sound ye make. Nod yer head if ye understand.” She was enthusiastic in her nods now. “I dinna want anyone else to hear my noises. If we continue this Claire, yer agreeing to be mine.” He kissed the back of her ear with real heat and passion. Her arm pressed the side of his head hard into her neck and she was breathing hard. “Is that what you want? You may speak now.”  

“Yes. Please.” She told him and came around, she wanted to kiss him desperately. She raised up on her toes and parted her lips but he shook his head. He saw the disappointment in her eyes.

“Turn around.” This time his tone told her he expected her obedience and he wouldn’t put a hand on her until she complied. “Spread yer legs apart.” He told her. “And raise yer hands up to the back of yer head. Mmphm, verra nice.” He purred.

Jamie teased her body with feather light touches and wee pinches. He kissed her bare shoulders, neck, inside wrist and then dropped to his knees. She waited breathlessly for him to touch her. She almost cried out when he brushed the inside of her leg then his hands travelled from knee to groin. She let out a puff of air that sounded suspiciously like a pant when he leaned forward and kissed the back of her knees, almost sending her to the floor when her legs buckled. His hands on her thighs steadied her. She felt so small in comparison. She sighed loudly when he started nipping and slipping up under her dress to her upper legs with teeth and fingertips.

“Your skin is smooth like velvet.” He told her. He stood back up and still did not take her in his arms. He pulled her against him once more and she could feel his erection on her ass. Claire was rubbing her thighs together trying to take the edge off. His mouth was near her neck when he whispered, “and you smell…delicious.” Jamie felt her shudder against him.

“I want you to tell me what ye see but it’s no’ an excuse for ye to be makin’ wee noises. No moans, no screaming.” He instructed.  

“I see his fingers.” She began.

“Doing what?” He asked. He wasn’t watching them, only her, only Claire. He grew bolder and started to lift the hem of her dress. She opened her mouth to protest but he stopped her.

“Continue.” He commanded.

“He’s pulling her panties away from her body. They’re s–so– oaked!” She hummed as she felt his fingers pressing against her own panties. They heard the sound of bare hand on bare bottom.

“Do ye like the idea of being spanked?” Claire nodded, he already knew she liked the idea just fine. His fingers were wet and he rubbed his thumb against his other fingers through the fabric of her underwear. His thumb pressed hard and she bent at the waist unable to keep still.

“Please!” She begged.

“Answer the question, Sassenach.”

“Yes. Especially like that.” She confessed watching avidly.

“Can ye enjoy it without squeaking?”

“Yes.” She lied. But when she saw his smile in the reflected window she amended, “I’m willing to try.”

“Well then, so am I.” He told her as he sat down and she felt herself being turned over his knee.

The first whack was through her dress. The sound muted and the feeling unsatisfying. His second smack was slightly better but she huffed a disappointed sigh. She squirmed against his knees, struggling for some kind of relief.

Wandering the club, especially with Jamie by her side had keyed her up. It had been literally months since she’d had anything close to good sex and she had a feeling the only kind of sex Jamie ever had was good, if not great. Jamie felt her trying to rub her clit against his hard thigh. She needed him and that pushed all his happy bells but this being their first real negotiation, he was especially careful to make she things were clear between them.

“No good, lass?” He asked the obvious. “Tell me what ye need.” Claire arched up and got to her feet. She stood over him and then came at him.

“I bloody need you to kiss me and then I need to feel your bare hand on my bare arse!”

He pulled her to him and finally kissed her. So unexpectedly sweet and hot was the kiss that Jamie forgot all about the rules and her remaining quiet. She moaned and panted and squeaked for long seconds right along with him. It was some moments until he noticed. He pulled his lips away from her and put a shushing finger against her lips.

“Oops!” she whispered. His eyebrows went up. “You’ll have to punish me, I guess?” The hopeful tone almost made him chuckle but then she saw his scowl for the half second it took him to get her back across his knees.

His hands were under her, wrapped tight on the elastic of her panties and he pushed them half way down her legs where they rested, constricting her legs from moving apart too far. She shimmied them all the way off and he chuckled. Her dress was bunched up above her waist and her lower body was completely naked. At last. Thank God.  

The first real whack had her inhaling her breath deeply inward. She bit her lip on the next slap. Three very hard ones in a row had her arching her back up, her hands pushing on his knees so she could look in his eyes and glare.

“Had enough?” Claire shook her head back and forth. She clenched and unclenched her bottom to make it eminently clear what she wanted. That made her ass jiggle. The next time his hand came down, Jamie squeezed one buttock hard. It parted her ass cheeks in a way that made her feel so exposed.  Her cheeks were reddening nicely with each smack.

Jamie was sweating a little and his cock was getting hard as she squirmed. She was hitting the backs of his calves in rapid time. He knew what she wanted. His fingers goosed her slowly and thoroughly. He moved his thumb inside her and pulled up hard. She twitched. She couldn’t contain the sound that it pulled from her throat.

Jamie leaned his head down to the back of hers. “Remember how I told ye those wee noises were mine?” He said urgently. She nodded. “Dinna hold back anymore, lass, they’re mine and I want to hear them.” He spanked her hard with one hand, working her harder with the other. The room filled with the sound of Claire utterly lost in her pleasure.

“Beg me, Sassenach. Beg me for permission to come.” He stopped moving his fingers all together. Claire was straining against him, trying to get what she wanted. He eased his fingers out of her making a wet sound as he did so and just waited her out. She raised her ass higher in the air, poised on the edge of it.

“Please, Jamie, let me come. Make me come!” She was trembling.

“Dinna fash, mo nighean donn, I’ve got ye.” She was so wet now. Jamie carefully gathered some of her moisture and slicked up her rear crease. She stiffened. “Relax,” He reassured her, “Ye ken the safe word.” Claire kept quiet, breathless. Her skin was on fire. Jamie pulled her ass cheeks apart and spit to increase the wetness there. It was so raw and unexpected that she clenched her ass tightly.  His hands firmly spread her open again. She felt him blow up and down and gooseflesh broke out on her skin.

When she was well lubricated, Jamie eased his finger in slowly. Her legs jerked at the intrusion. His other hand snaked back into pussy. She felt spread impossibly wide. Jamie began an erotic dance that had her moaning and shuddering. He pressed between front and back fingers and rubbed a knuckle solidly over her clit.

“I ken how close ye are,” He moved his fingers with deft sureness. It was the strain in his voice that did it. “That’s a good lass, come for me.” Claire screamed and her whole body stiffened. His fingers kept drawing her pleasure from her, wave after wave.

She was magnificent. When she stilled at last he lifted her into his arms and held her, pressing a warm cloth to her and cooling her reddened bottom. His hands brushed her hair away from her face and he peppered her with small kisses. She lay her head heavily against his chest as he crooned to her in a language she didn’t understand. For the first time in months she felt peace in her restless heart.  


	2. The Full Monty of Her Dreams -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And then, Sassenach, you made a noise.” The possessive tone sent shivers up her spine. “What did I tell you about your noises, Claire?” 
> 
> Another installment of the Mac Daddy AU

Setting: A bedroom somewhere in Edinburgh, Scotland. Claire snuggled under her quilts on this cold night….

 

“I canna believe ye talked me into this.”

 

“Believe it, Uncle Jamie, focus, aye? We havena got much time and you need all the practice you can get.” Ian nodded and turned his uncle back toward the mirror. He turned the music back on and watched Jamie work through the simple routine.

 

“No, uncle, ye need to move yer hips more.” Jamie adjusted his weight and tried. Ian burst out laughing.

 

“Aye, let’s see ye do it, if it’s so easy!”

 

Ian nodded and stood beside Jamie, gesturing for Jamie to watch the mirror, in part to catch the look on his face.

 

Jamie’s mouth dropped open as he watched Ian effortlessly undulate like a long, thin serpent then snap his hips back to pivot exactly in time to the music. Jamie knew he could still beat the lad in most strength challenges and out shoot him while hunting but Ian was undeniably the quicker of the two. And, Jamie conceded, by far the more graceful. He felt like a clumsy oaf next to him.

 

“Ok now you try.” Seeing his uncle hesitate Ian promised, “I won’t laugh.” Jamie waited for the song to get to the right spot then attempted to mimic his nephew. Ian tried really hard not to laugh but he lost the battle. “I’m sorry I know I promised. Stop overthinking.” He advised. Jamie caught Ian’s eye in the mirror and sighed. He knew how stiff and stilted his movements were.

 

“I canna do this. And who is going to pay to see my ugly arse anyway?” Jamie said, discouraged.

 

“Why everyone, Uncle!” Ian was shocked, didn’t he understand how huge this event was going to be?

 

Ian had built a very strange niche business called the Full Monty Fundraiser. He went all over the country putting such shows together. The formula was the same: a select core group of well known, respectable community scions who could be taught how to perform well enough for an evening’s entertainment, filled in ranks with real male dancers who would be the backbone of such a show, publicized the hell out of the event and promised an unforgettable finale featuring those well known community members. Tickets always sold like hotcakes.

 

“We sold out of the premium seats already, and a good thing, too. We need to sell every seat in order to raise the matching funds and win the grant for the health clinic Auntie Claire has her heart set on.” Ian reminded him. “If you miss the deadline, the grant will go to another community.”

 

A couple weeks ago, and with heavy heart, Claire let him know that they were still short by several thousand dollars. This was what had ultimately led to him to reach out to his nephew Ian Murray on a last ditch effort to get the much needed funds in the door in time to save the grant. He wasn’t giving up without trying everything he could.

 

“You’re doing a great thing, uncle. I canna wait to see the look on Dr. Sassenach’s face when we give her the check!” At this Jamie smiled, picturing just how thrilled she would be.

 

“Aye. The only saving grace is she’s on duty the night of the show so she’ll only have to hear about this humiliating event.”

 

“Learn these moves and all she’ll hear about is how hot you were and how loud the crowd screamed.”

 

“From the top, wee Ian.” Jamie set himself to his task.  

 

“That’s the spirit!” Ian restarted the music and this time came up behind his uncle, focusing his attention back to the mirror. “Ok, let’s just start wi’ a body roll. Knees bent uncle. Lead wi’ yer arse, aye?”

 

“I dinna ken what ye want me to do, my body just doesna---”

 

“It does, Uncle. Squat, dinna argue just do it. Now pretend ye need to get up from a chair but arse first. Good. Do it a couple more times. Ok now stand tall and tick yer chin out. Ok lean back a bit and pretend yer fallin’ and yer arse is gonna catch you. Pecs to abs lean back and roll up your body.” Ian watched him for a few then cut the music. “Uncle…”

 

By the end of the rehearsal, Jamie was making decent progress. He at least had the steps committed to memory. Ian was standing close behind Jamie teaching him the fine art of removing clothing seductively. When Ian reached out to rip off his sweats revealing his red sequin thong Jamie abruptly spun on his heels and walked away. Ian was laughing so hard tears were running down his cheeks.  

 

“Come back, man.” Ian told him. “Ye canna be worrit for yer dignity doing something like this, so dinna act like a prude. The bigger the better!” Jamie choked on that and made a gesture indicating Ian’s get up. “I ken it seems a bit o’er the top but it’s what they like. Ok. Last time through now we glide in and one, two, three pop it….it’s a harder thrust. Pop it one, two pop!”

 

When Roger popped his head in, he got an eye full of Jamie and Ian performing some choreographed humping thing. He laughed to himself and waited for the song to trail off then said, “Shall I give you some time to finish up doing...whatever it is your doing?”

 

Ian bounced immediately upright, “Roger, excellent. Did you have any luck?”

 

“I did. We got the permits. Plus, I found a band that was willing to donate their services.”

 

At that Jamie’s eyebrow shot up. “Well done, Roger Mac!” Roger was a counselor, running several community programs. He loved working with at risk populations. “Who’s the band?” Jamie thought to ask.

 

“The Choral Knickers.” Roger told him but was looking sideways.

 

“The Choral Knickers?” Ian asked.

 

“Yes, there is some good musical talent in the parolees I work with and we’ve formed a band. They are quite good.” He explained.

 

“What are they on parole for, exactly?” Ian wondered.

 

“Mostly petty theft, pickpocketing and one or two of them for lewd behavior- peeping toms, panty raids. Hence the name-- but look they will do it for free and they are great on stage.” Roger’s face flushed red.

 

“Ye want to bring light-fingers who chase light-skirts to a Full Monty show?” Jamie was incredulous.

 

“What better test to prove they are taking their rehabilitation to heart than one so full of obvious temptation?” Roger asked reasonably.

 

The night of the show and the crowd was packed. The venue was sold out and Ian’s advance team was entertaining everyone. Backstage, the boys were getting dressed.

 

“Isn’t that outfit a little beside the point?” Joe asked with a gesture. Jamie turned around and held out his hands, looking puzzled. “I mean I thought a true Scot would---”

 

“Aye.” Jamie admitted with a glint in his eye. “This is honestly the first time I’ve ever worn anything under it. Where Ian found a tartan thong I’ll never know. At least I’m wearing Fraser colors. You didna stray so far from your home turf either I see.” Jamie gestured at Joe.

 

“I can guarantee I’ll never wear velcro rip and go clothing again, but at least the costume was easy to make.” Joe acknowledged.

 

By the time everyone had assembled the green room looked more like an out of control Halloween party than a strip show.

Roger, the MC for the evening went back for a check in. It was getting late, the ladies in the crowd were well lubricated and primed and it was time for the finale. He stepped back and took in the sight before him.

 

There stood Jamie Fraser in full highland kit, Dr. Joe Abernathy in doctor’s scrubs, Ian Murray in Native American garb, Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser - as a construction worker and Fergus Fraser as a biker.  He burst out laughing.

 

“I’m not sure if you would make the cut as real exotic dancers but you sure as hell would make a great Village People cover band. I’ll go out shall I and have a bit of fun with the introductions?” Roger told them, the glint of ribald humor in his eyes making Jamie uneasy, as, knowing Roger’s quick wit, he was sure they’d be in for it with whatever he came up for in those introductions.  

 

“Ready Uncle Jamie?” Ian asked him.

 

“Aye, dancing to my doom. When ye hand Claire her check for the clinic tell her that I died bravely, eh?”

 

Ian laughed. “Och, you can tell her yourself, she switched shifts and is sitting in the front row.” Ian flung his arm around Jamie’s shoulders and made sure the man didn’t make a mad dash for the exits.  

 

Roger stepped out on the stage to raucous hoots and wolf whistles.

 

“Good evening. I’m your host, Will MacOckfit.” This elicited cat calls. “A couple of quick announcements: the Full Monty Fundraiser has been a smashing success and we will be able to secure the medical clinic grant.” A huge cheer went up followed by immediate chants of “full monty.”  Roger held up his hands and the crowd grew a little more subdued. “I know you are all excited to see the finale. So let me introduce you to our lineup. Straight from the new housing development off of Route 69 give it up for D’leek Indaroof.” Murtagh took his place on stage with many calling out his name. He made a few lews gestures at them which did nothing to discourage the crowd.

 

“Congratulations are in order for our next crew member, Juan RM Bandit who just completed his purchase of the Roadhouse Bar.” Fergus blew kisses as he grandstanded into line. “You know when he touches you, he feels like a surgeon every time! Say hello to Ivy Dripp.” Joe sheepishly stutter-stepped to place, taken aback by the size of the crowd.

 

“It took him four days of hard riding to get here from his home territory of Mohawk Heights, give it up for Sorest Rump!” Ian laughed good naturedly as he floated and gyrated to his place, twirling at the last minute so the crowd could better appreciate his assless chaps, likely the reason behind the name Roger saddled him with.

 

“Finally, fresh from the wilds of Scotland where he was best known by his sobriquet the Bare Kilter, we have a natural redhead-- a fact you can verify for yourselves this evening, give it up for the man, the myth, the legend: Ginger B. Redman.” Jamie stepped out on the stage to huge applause.

 

He was blushing and trying his best not to look at Claire who was grinning like the cat that ate the cream. She reached into her bag and pulled out a fan of one dollar bills, flashing them at him. Oh God, he could tell from where he stood that she was well on her way to drunk. Then again, he loved drunk Claire, so he relaxed and decided to simply enjoy this ridiculous event. He winked at her. Then he saw her prodding Geillis Duncan-- best friend and partner in crime on many a girls night out.

 

Geillis nodded at Claire, giving her a sly look then shouted out, “Bare Kilter? Really? Oy! What’s under the kilt?”

 

Jamie’s eyes narrowed as he saw Claire collapse into helpless giggles.

 

“Last time I checked, my wife’s lipstick, lass.”

 

The ladies roared and now it was Claire’s turn to blush.

 

After the applause died down the lights cut off and the strains of the song the had all practiced to boomed out, just the drums at first then the rest.

 

The spotlights came on and the crowd was treated to the chorus lineup of the boys strung out across the stage, backs turned to the audience, one leg tapping out in time to the backbeat. Exaggerated shifts of weight to and fro had firm arses popping in time with the music and one another. The intro had given all of them much needed time to settle into the dance and gain confidence.

 

“I hear the drums echoing tonight…” Toto’s Africa caught the boys up in its seductive rhythm and they turned as one the spread out up and down stage on their marks and before the ground swell of the first “It’s going to take a lot to take me away from you…” rang out, they had begun to peel their layers.

 

It should have looked preposterous. None of these men, save Ian, had any experience and yet all of them were born with some natural grace that allowed their bodies to glide and sway. Plus, Claire admitted, as more skin was exposed, the crowd was focused on other things. Claire kept her eyes on Jamie, mostly...occasionally checking out Joe-- she really needed ammo for later teasing. But she really could not help but stare at Ian. He  was stunning to watch. He had a way of moving his hips that was downright hypnotic and he practically oozed sex.

 

Jamie watched her struggling and laughed to himself. Thank Christ for the lad! The fewer the eyes on him the better but he was looking forward to teasing Claire about this for months. They were all shirtless now, hips thrusting and bumping.

 

Ian was busy helping Fergus get his outfit ready to pull off and having a go at the crowd by playing up the male on male fantasy which, judging by the universally positive reaction, met with equal approval of the men and women in the audience.

 

They had shimmied and twisted and rocked around so that now they all lined up again with individual spotlights on them, which blinked off together then one by one popped on as each man flung his pants off in one fluid snap of the wrist. Jamie was last one and had the time to observe the crowd reaction as they went down the row.

 

Claire tried to remind herself that this was Ian , lovingly referred to by his family as wee Ian -- Oh, well, so. A misnomer if ever there was one, she could now see-- encased in the male version of a g-string, not much was left to the imagination. She almost died when the light above Jamie flicked on and he was staring straight at her, smirking.

 

Jamie, not having pants, changed the routine up a bit here. He did a silly little twirl that ended with his back to the audience. He gave them a come hither glance over his shoulder. The crowd ate it up. While it was true that Ian was stealing the show-- thank the lord-- it was also true that Jamie himself had been the main selling point for the event and folks deserved to get their money’s worth.

 

He slid the waistband down, then stopped, down, the stopped. Shouts and screams of encouragement followed. He drew it off in one sudden swirl and let everyone get a good look at his arse in thong. He knew he had a nice one. Firm, high, round and, thanks to Ian, oiled to perfection and, while he’d not admit this ever, covered in a light dusting of glitter. There was a dead pause-- by design-- built into the Knickers version of the song. The drummer then started up a jungle beat. Jamie shook his arse as Ian taught him, a move almost impossible to maintain for more than a minute unless you were Shakira, but it had the desired effect.

 

Claire couldn’t stop staring. That arse, glowing, flexing and releasing, it made her hot. As she glanced around, she realized she wasn’t the only one.  A spike of jealousy creeped up her body and she was flush with it. By the time the lads had all turned around, her eyes were back on stage staring at Jamie as if she’d never seen him before.

 

He’d noticed her look and understood its mood. His eyes promised he’d take care of her later. Then the line was reaching down and suddenly their thongs were tossed into the air---

*************

That same bedroom sometime later….

Claire came awake in an instant, wiping the drool from the corner of her mouth. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep and her bizzare dream about Jamie as an American stripper doing the Full Monty was adding to her confusion.

 

The radio was playing Toto’s Africa, explaining the bizarre musical selection of her dream and the book she was reading, Drums, was cracked open on her chest holding her place before her nap took over.

 

The phone pinged again. Speak of the devil.

 

Mac Daddy: Meet me at Flowers in one hour. Dress up.

Sassenach: Flowers, the gentleman’s club? RU joking?

Mac Daddy: I don’t recall seeking your opinion.

 

Claire waited a full minute. It was obvious that he’d given her an order and expected her to obey it. Her first reaction was often to say no when issued such a command but her kink was being ordered about. That was, of course, why she’d joined Whisper to a Scream in the first place.

 

Despite her initial reaction, as she secured her nylons to her garter, she found herself getting excited and looking forward to the evening. She really enjoyed being with Jamie and they’s spent enough time together to have a good shorthand way of relating to one another now. Claire took one last look in the mirror, smoothed her dress, applied her lipstick and went to catch her Uber.

 

Everything about Flowers was dignified. This included the lush velvet booths, the crisp white tablecloths, the crystal highball glasses, the waiters in their tuxes and even the g-string clad exotic dancers doing impossible gyrations on the pole.

 

Jamie noticed that despite the club’s many distractions, many of the male eyes were on Claire as she wove her way to their table. Her dress was a surprisingly tame, sleeveless mock neck  black jersey, ending mid thigh. Her nylons had a hint of shine in the weave and her heels were not much more than thin criss cross straps on long thin sticks. Sexy as hell and she moved with the confidence of a woman who knows her best asset is showcased to perfection. He was delighted to know he’d picked their evening’s entertainment so well.

 

Jamie waited until Claire was seated before glancing at his watch, that was only for show, he knew she’d be on time but wanted her to know being late would have been duly noted. She kissed his cheek as she slid her body across the bench to sit down next to him. The hem of her dress had slipped up a bit as she wriggled on the seat and he swallowed hard seeing the tabs holding her stockings in place. She knew him so well, garters. But what had she worn for panties? The answer came to him at once and he smiled to himself. Such a naughty lass! Good thing he planned ahead.

 

Jamie poured her another glass of wine. They were on their second bottle. Claire was now openly admiring the ladies on the stage and becoming more animated in her interactions with him.  The stage emptied out as the girls went out into the audience offering private lap dances. Jamie made a show of pushing the table away from their little booth a bit. Claire wondered if he was going to ask one of them dancers to do that for him. She was intrigued and surprised to feel a little spurt of jealousy at the thought.

 

Her heart pounded as he called a woman over to them. He extended a bill to her and whispered in her ear. Claire had never gotten a lap dance before. It was...different.

 

“First time?” The woman asked, she was a tiny thing with very surprisingly full breasts and no ass. At Claire’s nod she said, “I’m Candy.” She said or maybe Sandy, it was hard to tell. “Just relax, love, give yer man a show.” She moved very well and Claire found herself enjoying the feel of the woman’s skin on hers but what she really liked was the way Jamie was watching her. She leaned her head back and panted a little, playing it up.

 

As the woman moved off, Jamie’s arm came around Claire and shifted her back into his body once more. His fingers teased her bare arms and he blew the curls around her neck causing her to shiver. They watched the rest of the dancers as they moved from table to table talking a bit about what they enjoyed watching and who was doing what.

 

A half an hour later, and wine finished, Jamie called her attention to him. “Sassenach?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

Jamie plucked a small shopping bag from the floor. It was from a very exclusive boutique in the city center.

 

“Take this and go into the ladies and change into this. Keep your stockings and shoes. Leave the bag with your clothes under the bench in the anteway of the loo. Wait in the hall until you see the girls come off the stage again, then join them.” Claire’s hand shook as she accepted the bag.

 

“You want me to pretend I’m a stripper and give you a lap dance, here?” Her eyes were full of surprise but he caught her gleam of interest.

 

“That would be no challenge to you at all.” He shook his head. “I’m tempted to tell you to no’ come back until you’ve collected a hundred quid but since I invited you out it seems rude to make you pay for the date. No, how about,” At this Jamie’s eyes cast around the room until he spotted a likely someone. “You see that man there,” Jamie gestured and Claire followed his eyes.

 

“What-- the blonde?” She saw the slender blue eyed man one table away. She almost laughed out loud. Was he serious? Good lord she’d never done anything remotely like this in her life.  

 

“Aye, give him a proper dance and then come to me.” Jamie commanded.

 

“Jamie---”

 

“Are you refusing?” He said very softly but the look in his eye sent chills down her back. Her chin came up a bit.

 

“What if I am?” She squeaked recklessly.

 

“Then ye’ll no’ get punished later.” He warned. “And I’ll send you to bed without.”

 

Well, that would be no fun -- after a nap dreaming of strippers and an evening at a strip club she was hot and flustered. Claire nodded having no idea how she was going to pull it off but drunk and horny enough to want to try.

 

Jamie saw her fold herself effortlessly into the line of girls fanning out among the tables. His mouth went dry and no amount of water would quench his thirst. She was spectacular. The black and white dance bikini played with the angles of her body. The delicate white lace ribbon around her neck did unspeakable things to him, but it was the sight of her stockings and arse as she moved around the room slowly, purposefully to make sure he was watching her, that set his blood on fire.

 

For a crazy minute he debated calling this off. The idea of her shaking that ass for anyone else...but no, this was in part a test of her and of him as well. It would do neither of them any good for him to be indecisive. He watched her approach, the careful way she’d adjusted the angel of the man’s chair just so. Minx, she knew he’d drink in every detail. He raised one brow and she began to swivel her hips.

 

Claire moved awkwardly at first, too self conscious of her inexperience and too aware of Jamie to give her mind over to it but eventually the man’s soft sounds of appreciation overrode her self-conscious movement. Claire put her body between his legs and began to roll her hips, twisting and rocking her body. She ran a hand sensually down her body, gently pinching her nipples, making them stand up.

 

The man beneath her gaze gasped but she paid no attention, her eyes were riveted on Jamie. He made a pretense of calm as he reached for his wine glass but she caught his frown as he remembered it was empty. She watched as he hailed a waiter. She spun around and bent over giving the blonde and Jamie a spectacular view of her backside. She heard the man moan and felt his hand reach out and gently, softly caress her hip.

 

Claire stepped over to straddle one of the man’s legs. She noticed the fabric of his pants was a scratchy wool. She shifted her body, twisting it in a sensual arc and her crotch made contact with his hard thigh. She felt the zing in her core and, unable to help herself, rubbed back and forth in time to the music. She bounced her arse around and now faced the man. She rolled her torso and circled it around in a deliberate, slow tease. The man’s lips parted and he moved to pull her closer.

 

Claire felt the heat of Jamie’s stare on her skin as the man strained under her trying to get Claire to sit more fully on his lap, which she was resisting. Claire knew she was a cock tease but it wasn’t his cock that interested her at the moment. Jamie was burning, she could sense the tension in him and that made her reckless.

 

The teacher was about to learn an important lesson. Claire gripped one breast in her hand and made to bring it to the man. His lips parted in desire. When the teeth closed around her nipple she cried out loudly and her gaze flew from Jamie’s face to the blonde. She watched in fascination as he licked and sucked hard. Claire’s eyes closed and reveled in the feel of it. How incredibly dirty it was to be doing this, in public, with someone other than her date. Will an effort she turned her attention back to Jamie.

 

Jamie willed himself to stay seated. The tick in his jaw the only evidence of his discomfort. He gave her a look, unmistakeable in meaning. Claire canted her hips forward for a final grind in farewell and then pulled away. Unable to stop the long stalking gait of her legs she moved inexorably into his orbit. The heat of him calling her as clearly as her name. The admiration in his eyes gave her the confidence she needed and she stepped between his splayed legs.

 

“Did you like your show?” She asked.

 

“Oh aye.” He assured her. “As did you.” He stated this as a fact but she nodded anyway. “Did ye like teasing that poor man?” Jamie asked and watched Claire bite her lip. She nodded. “What else?”  His fingertips gently traced her leg upwards, then very lightly tapped her core, causing the teeny scrap of cloth there to moisten with dew. “I asked you a question, Sassenach.” He was going to make her say it.

 

“I liked teasing you, too.” She admitted and was rewarded with an invitation to straddle him. His arms came around her backside and he squeezed her ass. They were aware in a general way of being surrounded by people and thus somewhat circumspect in their actions. Yet both were drunk and hungry enough to become reckless. For the moment they were the only two people in the world.

 

“Dance for me, lass.”  Claire’s hips began swaying once more. This time she threw herself completely into the music, her goal to drive them both mad. Her hands rose over her head and she gyrated for him, shaking hips and breasts. It was he who broke first and pulled her against him until she was firmly seated in his lap. Claire’s arms came around his shoulders and she gave in to the need to grind against his body to find some relief. She put her mouth to his ear.

 

“Can you feel how turned on this makes me?”  

 

He laughed and placed his hands on either side of her hips and held her down against his erection making a Scottish noise of  agreement. He relaxed his grip, moving her hair off her neck and rubbing his chin against her before sitting back further into the booth to give them as much cover as possible hoping the high backed booth and table cloth hid most of their motion.

 

She was rocking back and forth in a slow circle that had both of them panting. Her eyes opened and their gazes locked. Claire was riding him as he pushed against her, trying their best to be subtle about it. Her eyes rolled up in her head and his breath is warm on her chest.

 

“Did you like feeling the blonde’s cock?” He rumbled in her ear, holding her in place. Claire moaned as she remembered. “You let him suck your nipple.” Jamie observed. “I watched as his tongue licked your breast. You shivered when his lips closed around it.”

 

“You knew that was a risk.” She told him, making a fast and furious roll of her middle. Listening to Jamie talk about someone else touching her while doing this was getting her so close.

 

“I did.” At this Claire watched the back of Jamie’s hand brush across the nipple in question and she hissed.  

 

Her fingers floated down to his belt and she gave a little tug. A waiter passed near her line of sight and she was reminded again of where they were. He groaned softly when she dropped her idea concluding that it would be too big a risk and contented herself with a few strong, sure strokes that turned her on as much as him. Jamie had enough awareness to know a new floor show was about to begin which meant the room would dim its lights for a minute or so.

 

“And then, Sassenach, you made noise.” The possessive tone sent shivers up her spine. “What did I tell you about your noises, Claire?” One of his arms came around her backside and pulled her in.

 

“They…” She was panting now, trying to be circumspect but moving with purpose. “They’re all y--yours.” The last word high pitched and breathy.

 

“Damn right they are.”

 

Suddenly the lights dimmed. She felt his lips clamp down on the breast in question and she felt a thumb hit her exactly right. Jamie felt her buck and seize under him and his mouth closed over hers, capturing every sound.


	3. Possession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this quote from ABOSAA-
> 
> “I didna want to possess her. You, mo nighean donn, you, I would own.”
> 
> ________________________________________________________________

## Jamie and Claire work out the kinks in their relationship and Jamie spots an unexpected guest at his aunt’s wedding and this time, it’s his turn.

 

 

**Chapter 3: Possession**

 “I had no idea this place even existed!” Claire said with a smile as she sat across from Jamie, steaming cup of tea warming her hands. From the detritus around him, he’d been there awhile, working away with laptop, papers and assorted pens scattered about.

 “Aye, ‘tis tucked out of the way. I appreciate you’re getting the afternoon off.” His tone was neutral but the intensity of his look made her belly clench.

“Oh, well it wasn’t so much getting an afternoon off per say. We have shift schedules -- it’s never 9-5 sometimes it 7-3 or I have the whole morning off, I still get the occasional night shift rotation, too.”

They sipped in companionable silence for a bit, neither wishing to rush it. This marked their third meeting and they both knew it would be the turning point in their relationship-- were they going forward or backing off completely? Their first meeting had been at  _Whisper to a Scream_ , the second at  _Flowers_. Having late afternoon tea in a charming antiquarian bookshop and cafe seemed positively pedestrian. It also had not escaped her notice that while she had enjoyed herself rather spectacularly on both their prior meetings, Jamie had denied himself the same release.

Claire had been expecting the reverse would be true, that as a Dom, Jamie would have focused more on his own satisfaction with her role to serve him, her pleasure a secondary concern.  She knew from their text chats this had something to do with Jamie’s own...well, ethics, if such a term could be applied to Dom/sub relationships. He’d also told her that he was being especially cautious with her since she had never been involved in the BDSM scene before.

“Did ye bring it, then?” He ventured.

Before becoming a member of  _Whispers_ , Claire had to filled out a survey focused on her past sex life, preferences, turn ons and offs. The information was used to introduce her to other compatible clients of the club. But following their night at Flowers, Jamie had sent her a second set of questions-- not one of them had been about sex.

Deceptively innocent in construction - favorite & worst date, hardest subject in school, most uncomfortable emotion, treat loved in childhood, punishments used most often by parents, pet peeves, music she hated,  movies that made her cry, on and on-- it felt even more personal than the Whispers inquiry. Only after she’d answered them did she realize that the result was a very intimate portrait of her psyche. Jamie reached over to take it but at the last moment, Claire’s grip tightened. He stayed frozen until her gaze met his. Once it did, he moved his hand and covered hers, heedless of the paperwork clutched in her fingers.  

“How can this list possibly tell you everything? What if I don’t like what you do with me?” She said in a rush.

“Ye ken the safe word- red light, aye?” Still her grip didn’t slack.  “You dinna need to do this, Claire.” He smiled at her. “You can keep your wee secrets, if it makes you feel safer. I just...I canna see how else to approach it. You ken the difference between a punishment and a reward in this arena isna self-explanatory?”  Claire could feel her face redden and grow hot. “If you had more experience as a sub, you’d be able to tell me your own limits but you don’t. Yer asking me to teach you the...ropes.” He said with a slight emphasis on the word that sent shivers down her spine.

Jamie shook his head decisively and gently pried the paper from her hand. He didn’t look at it or make a move to take it, but instead set it face down on the table next to her. He took her hand in his once more and turned it palm up. As his fingertips lightly traced the whirls and pads of each finger,  he spoke to her in a low, earnest tone.

“Look at your hands in mine, calman geal, how tiny and delicate they are. When you are holding a scalpel, they know what to do-- how to cure by means of a cut, aye? But if no’ for all the training you’ve had, these same hands would do more harm than good, is that not so?” Claire’s eyes moved from his to their joined hands and she nodded. “If I dinna ken more about what you need, what you are trying to get from me, I may truly hurt you, Sassenach and not just physically.”

Claire cocked her head, considering. Jamie had a way of quietly insisting she do what he asked that turned her sub side on to no end. Yet she also hated this side of herself, it had taken a long time for her to admit that she enjoyed, craved  being dominated. Since meeting him, the pressure in her head, that thing that drove her to drink too much, to feel like she was crawling out of her skin, had dissipated considerably. Somehow the sexual thrill he offered her, even just spending time imagining the things Jamie would do to her soothed her jagged, ragged edges. Yet, she loathed feeling weak,the need it aroused within, the things she couldn’t wait for someone…. Jamie…. to try. She was, simply put, at war with herself.

“I dinna want to feel like I’m talking you into this.” His tone didn’t change at all when he added, “I have no interest in being with a sub who doesna want to submit, Claire.”

Jamie started to pack up his things, methodically placing each item neatly back in his bag. Claire began to panic-- what was he doing? What was he saying? He didn’t want her? Her head began to buzz.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to!” She cried out, “Only that it feels manipulative to ask such questions and expect me to provide you all the ammunition you need to get me right where you want me. Soon, I’ll be licking your boots and saying yes, Master, no, Master, three bags full, Master!”

He sighed deeply. Claire knew she’d said the wrong thing. Jamie intrigued her, haunted her, she felt like she had come to life since meeting him. Suddenly, getting in his good graces seemed more important than her peevish qualms about his methodology.

“What enjoyment do ye think I might get from a sub who makes it clear they’re doing me a favor every time they decide to obey my orders? I like you, Sassenach.  I think you know this already but I’ll confirm that if you went on match.com, you’d have your pick of dates. But you came to Whispers for a reason. Dom/sub relationships require more effort and yer attitude tells me you’ll be a particularly difficult sub to work with. I ken you’re burning up wi’ need. I think you’d be tight as fuck and, I’m sure I would love the sight of ye down on yer knees, spread wide open for me.” Claire was breathless imaging the tableau he painted in her head. He heard the little hitch in her throat and he could tell her pulse was racing. Time to give her a wee shove-- she would need to come willingly or not at all. “But, frankly, that isna enough to make me want to take ye on for something like this.”

“L--look I know my inexperience is a problem.” Jamie just looked at her like she was Captain Obvious. “I need to work on my attitude.” Claire’s words rushed out. Still, he remained silent, waiting her out. “I’m smart and capable!”  Jamie just raised an eyebrow. “Please, I want to learn and I want you to be the one to teach me. Give me a chance?” She felt desperate to change his mind, even though a part of her hated the needy whine in her voice.

She suddenly remembered the paper in front of her. She slid it eagerly across to him. Jamie drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. She would test him 18 ways till Sunday, there likely wasn’t a button she wouldn’t push and yet….He slowly picked up the paper. Claire sat primly, eyes downcast, silent while he reviewed it’s contents. She tried to watch him from the corner of her eye. When he was through he placed the paper down in front of him.

“I will give you the chance ye asked for.” Claire’s sigh of relief put him on his guard again-- not so fast, lass. “It’s up to you, Sassenach, to show me why I’d let you-- no, why you  _deserve_...to lick my boots.”

He threw her words back at her but instead of angering her, she felt a rush of dampness between her legs. He must have noticed because he gave her a perceptive look. His long leg extended unobtrusively underneath the table. She heard the toe of that very same boot thunk as it made contact with the hard bench she was sitting on.

“Do ye need something?”

Claire could feel the heat of him and she scooted her bottom over just a bit while she nodded.

“You’ll need to speak up, Sassenach, I didna hear you.” He taunted her with the toe of his shoe just teasing the inside of her thigh.

“You.” She answered, moaning when his foot moved within a hair’s breadth of her apex.  

“And yer sure? You’re asking me to make my claim on you?” He asked bluntly.

“I am.” Claire gasped and tried to wriggle his foot closer to her.

Jamie moved his toe to her other leg, high, in the seam between hip and thigh, not quite where she wanted to feel him the most.

“I'm a patient man, Sassenach but it’s been driving me mad, imagining what you look like naked, how you’ll feel when I sink myself as deep as I can go, pushing into you again and again, the wee noises you’ll make as ye yield to me and beg me to mark you.”

“Oh.” Her breath hitched. Jesus, he was pushing her to the edge by words alone.

“I want to own you, Claire and all I can think about is the fact that the next time I see you, I’m going to possess you and make you mine.”

She waited for him to move his foot to touch her core. Her desire hung in the air between them and then she heard his foot drop away to the floor.

When next he spoke she was more than a little impressed that his tone had lost all of it’s desperate edge and sounded perfectly normal, as if he hadn’t almost given her an eargasm.

“I’ll be travelling for the next week, then I have a family commitment, but I’ll be free Sunday next. Will that work for you?”  

************************

Judith Wylie was a hot little piece, in a barely there black dress and stiletto heels. She had the tightest ass and every time she spun around in his arms, she made sure to wriggle it firmly against his crotch.

Claire had spotted him the second he hit the dance floor with that… that...she sighed and--had to admit-- extremely sexy and obviously available woman. She knew it was a mistake to let Joe talk her into coming to this wedding. She barely knew the bride, Jocasta Cameron, from the work they had done on the mobile health clinic fundraising board; but Joe was footie friends with Murtagh Fraser, the groom and he’d talked her into being his “plus one.”

There being a lot of Frasers in the city she knew it was a long shot running into Jamie -- it had been almost a week and she still hadn’t heard from him. His words had played in her head all week and she strung tight, thinking about what he said he was going to do to her. A patient woman would have waited demurely by the phone until the day he promised he’d he’d be free instead of preemptively attending a social event in order to coincidentally meet him. No, meek and obedient wasn’t going to come easy for her at all. Now she was deeply regretting her decision because there he was giving another woman those scorching looks, rubbing up against her and enjoying it.  

“They make a nice couple, don’t they?” An American accent next to her brought her out of her reverie.  

“Oh? Dating are they?”

“Not that I know of but give my sister a couple more songs and that might change. I’m Philip Wylie.”  

They exchanged small talk with amiable ease. He must be a younger brother, she thought, there was promise in his bone structure, but he still retained that long gangley look. It soothed her ego to be chatted up and flirted with so expertly. He was eager, which was flattering and demonstrative with his hands, which was a little annoying. She found him charming, nonetheless.

He’d never make her lick his boots. Claire snorted to herself, the thought likely would never occur to him. He struck her as someone who thought he was God’s gift but whose company got old, boring and whose premature ending would feel more like a relief than a disappointment.

Philip had maneuvered her behind a pillar. She’d tried to edge away from him back toward the more open, and public, dance floor or, even better, straight into the exit hall just past the main bar and leave the event entirely. But he’d blocked her and backed her into the wall on the far side. Philip stood with one arm above and the other leaning against her. He tried for a confident, knowing chuckle, but it sounded all wrong. Trapped, and she didn’t want to be there. When she opened her mouth to protest, she found it filled with his tongue and then she felt his hands roving all over her body.

Despite her pencil line skirt, she managed to get a knee up.  While he was bent over, she deftly twisted out of his grasp and, snatching a shot of something off the bar, downed it as she grabbed coat and purse and made a beeline for the exit. She’d text Joe when she got home so he wouldn’t worry; but she would be damned if she spent another second being vexed by the Wylie siblings.

She was almost out the door of the picturesque wedding venue (crumbling castle, complete with drawbridge) when she felt a hand on her arm. The next thing she knew, she was being diverted to a hidden room beneath an archway.

“Hey!” She exclaimed. The sounds of the band and crowd muffled considerably upon the audible click of a door shutting behind her. She was in a small administrative office with windows set high overhead, the scent of lemon wax strong in her nostrils.

She spun around to find Jamie staring at her.  She abruptly pressed her lips together seeing the thunderous expression on his face.

“Remind me, Sassenach, did we or did we not have an understanding, you and I?” Jamie deliberately placed one foot in front of the other, his heel echoing on the hardwood floor as he stalked slowly toward her.

“Y--yes?” She squeaked as he stood right in front of her. But her agreement didn’t seem to calm him down any.

“I warned you that the next time I laid eyes on you, I’d only have one thing on my mind, aye?”

“Warned? It was more like a promise and then you ignored me -- not one single call or text all week!” Claire miffed. His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

“Warning...promise-- either way I told you my plan.” His face was so close to hers she could feel the breath leave his body. His lips curled in a hard line and his hand was shaking when it rose just above her arm, not quite touching her.  His eyes bore into hers and she felt a quivering in her belly.

“Do ye ken what’s its been like for me? Counting down the days to Sunday? Picturing all the things I’ve wanted to do? Restraining myself from calling you early just to hear your voice? The whole time aching for it but knowing I wouldna have to deny myself any longer?” He grabbed her upper arm, seething and something dark shifted between them. Claire whimpered, too excited to try and contain it.

“Then, to find you here, a day early and at my Aunt’s wedding of all places? I thought for sure my eyes were playing tricks on me. But no, there ye were, your hair curled all around, that dress hugging yer body and those heels?”

“Your little tart’s heels were much higher than these!” She bit out.

“My little tart?” He sounded genuinely baffled. “I dinna even ken her name, Sassenach. Christ! I made shift to pass her off soon as I could and the next time I look up, yer no’ at your table, and I see some arsehole leaning you up against a post. Don’t ye know, when you are in the room you’re the only woman I see?” Claire shook her head, unable to calm her racing heart. “But before I can even begin to get to you...to rescue you from yon eager cub, I am forced to watch as he dares to put his hands all over what’s mine!” Jamie knew, without needing her confirmation, that Philip had overstepped his bounds.

Despite the intellectual objections Claire may have had to Jamie's Alpha male performance, her panties were growing wetter by the second.

“Show me, Sassenach, where his filthy hands touched ye.” Jamie ordered.

Wordlessly, Claire pointed to various parts of her body while Jamie made reproving sounds from the back of his throat. Each place Wylie’s touch had been, Jamie covered with his own.  Each stroke, every caress marking her and erasing the memory of Wylie’s unwelcome advances.

When she at last gestured to her mouth, he fisted her hair, snapping her head up. He kissed her deeply and she couldn’t help moaning, Philip Wylie fading entirely into the mist. All she could feel was Jamie: his heat, his unbridled need of her. His body pressed hard into hers as he broke the kiss and inhaled sharply. She watched his throat working to swallow and noticed the tremor in his hand when he pulled back to look at her.

“I can still smell him all over you. Fix it!” He ordered.

A thrill flushed through her body. Claire began to methodically undress: shoes, panty hose, panties, then slowly hiking the hem of her dress upwards no bra. When she finished she held herself still, allowing him to finally look his fill at her naked form. She can see how tightly his fists are bunched at his side. His breathing audible and irregular. His posture reminds her of a cat just before it pounces. Claire feels her skin growing hot, so hot, an unbearable coil in the pit of her stomach and a dull ache pulsing at her core.

Moving by instinct, she boldly stands in front him, taking his clenched hand and moving it up her flat abs, urging it higher, holding the back of his knuckle against her still flat nipple. It puckers on the first touch. She is watching his eyes as they hone in on the spot and he starts to move his fingers under his own power. Back and forth, flick and swirl together they look at it harden. His thumb smudged over it, joined then by his index finger, a nice meaningful pinch that made her bite her lower lip. He sucked in a breath when he saw her doing it.

“Is it fixed?” She asked. Jamie just shook his head, fingers still moving, first to one breast, then the other.  She bit back a smile because even now she can smell her own arousal, the sweat of his skin, his aftershave and nothing left in the air to hint of the stranger who had touched her.

“Yer mine.” He told her, eyes not looking away from hers. She nodded. “No one touches you but me.” Claire nodded again. Jamie thrust his hand between her legs pressing firmly against her clit as she moaned helplessly. “I own you.” He kissed her as he played. She ground her hips into him. When he broke the kiss she looked dazedly up at him.

“W-what else do you want me to do?”

“What else?” He echoed, a little uncertain, eyes narrowing . “Ye can drop to yer knees and take me in your mouth.”

Claire understood it as the order it was and she quickly unzipped him on her way down. He let her do all the work of shrugging his tight pants down his hips. His black, skin tight briefs only emphasized the half hard cock within. He muffled a groan as Claire nuzzled her cheek against the shiny fabric. He lengthened, uncoiling by measured degrees.

Jamie is staring at her closed eyes, her face rubbing to and fro, the moist heat of her mouth cupping him through his shorts. Without stopping, her hands reach down to unlace his shoe, she looks up when she tugs the laces of the second one. His finger caresses her cheekbone.  He feels her hands pulling first one foot free and then the other. Claire breaks eye contact with him as she eases the elastic waistband out and then inexorably down, removing pants and underwear in one fell swoop. Her hand racing back up the sculpted length of his thigh. She shoves the hem of his Oxford upwards to see him. A small “oh” murmured so softly he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard it. He did hear her intake of air as her cool hand encased his impressive length and she raises her eyes to meet his once more.

Jamie’s expression was one of burning want- his lips parted and his fingers running through the hair behind her ear, just resting against her skull for a moment. It felt good. With his other hand he lifted his shirt up and off.  She leaned in, bare skin on skin caressing up and down his length. He watches her hand hesitate as if she is uncertain whether to play with shaft or tip or balls.

“You’re so big.” She observed.

“Taste me.” Jamie encouraged.

For some minutes the only sound was a smacking wetness and the wee noises coming from Claire as she hummed around his cock, and a frustrated choking sound when she tried and failed to fit him into her mouth.

“Ye like that, lass?” Claire uh-hummed. “You love the fact that I fill ye so full ye canna take it all in, don’t you?”

She bobbed her head up and down, agreeing. Claire had no problem admitting she liked giving head. Liked kneeling down, the feel of a man’s hands tangling up in her hair, the pleasure it brought. She snaked a hand between her legs, not sure exactly what he’d meant when he told her he was the only one who could touch her, but she just couldn’t help it, she was aching.

She rejoices when she feels him holding the back of her head firmly in place and taking control of the movement.

“Hot, sweet mouth working over me so good. Och! Flatten yer tongue again, Sassenach. Christ, that’s it, take it deeper.”

Claire starts to time her breathing, holding it as he pushes down her throat, cutting off her air, thrusting in as far as he can go until he hits the back of her tongue.  She wills herself not to gag, but his size doesn’t make it easy.

“Look at me!” He commands and when she does she forgets to take in air so that by the time his hips are driving into her she is turning red and making desperate whimpering noises. “Fuck!” He hoists her up and she inhales sharply.

“Kiss me.” She begs and pants as he does, his hand sneaking back to its accustomed place between her thighs and she bears down hard. “I’m so wet, Jamie.”

“Aye, ye are, Sassenach. Ye like servicing me, don’t ye?” A sucking sound erupts from where his fingers are lodged at her core.  “Yer no’ done yet, Sassenach.” He warns as she moans in answer.

“No?” Her body grinds into him and all he wants is to drive himself hard and deep until he spills his seed inside her, marks her and erases the other completely.

Jamie’s eyes cast about the room, then rest on the desk in the corner. He gestures with a nod at it. “Bend yourself over yon desk.”

He watches her as she starts crossing the room, but then she abruptly turns back to him and grips his elbow as she wiggles her feet back into her heels.  He makes a muffled groan as he catches sight of her rear in the heels, popping her up deliciously high as she folds in half, ass in the air, torso resting against the cold wood top.

“Is this what you need?” Her eyes fluttered coyly.

He suddenly remembers telling her how much he would love seeing her on her knees spread wide waiting for him. Claire’s derriere in heels, bent on a desk was even better.  

“It’s a start, Sassenach, spread yer legs a bit more, aye?” He told her. He crossed toward her, completely ignoring the fact that she was looking over her shoulder, her eyes riveted on his erection. “God, I want nothing more than to fuck you hard and fast and hear scream as ye come on my cock.” Claire couldn’t stop the mewling noise she made and raised her rear higher. He dropped to his knees behind her.

“Please, Jamie, oh God!” She quivered as he spread her cheeks and dove in.

Claire pushed off the desk and hovered right on the line, a thumb inside of her would do it. She was getting more and more desperate and just about to lose it when he rose up and leaned over her, his cock rubbing against her upper cheek.

“But now I’ve decided I’ll take my time. Go so slow.” Claire whined. Jamie notched his cock up against her entrance. “So you’ll feel every inch of me, every pulse, every movement nice and easy.”  He started easing his way in.

“Harder, fuck!” Claire cried out. Jamie had no idea if that was a curse or a command, but no matter.

“Christ your cunt is snug, you’re soaked, lass. You have no idea what it feels like to have you waiting for me, begging me to open you wide.” He was boiling and rock hard.

Claire started pushing her hips back, urging him deeper, faster.

“No, Claire!” He gripped her hips and held them both in place. 

Not moving at all, the fullness of him half in and half out of her and all so could think about was how it would feel to have him thrust fully inside her, rocking her clit against him in that position where he could touch her inside and make her tingle every time he pushed forward.

She rocked her hips and his fingers dug in harder. His mouth fitted over the back of her shoulder and he nipped a little causing her to cry out.

“Be still. I willna ask again, lass.” His voice quivered and a fat drop of perspiration hit the swale of the small of her back.

“I c--c-an’t!” She looked back at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He could feel her trembling.

“Put your hands flat on the desk. Eyes forward, Claire. Good lass. Better?” He asked and chuckled as she shook her head. “I can feel how much ye want me. Better or worse than last time?”

“Worse.” She bit out.

“Good. I’ve been aching for you since we met. We do this my way. Ye don’t move and ye don’t come.” He told her. He felt her body tense but she stayed put.

Claire huffed in frustration. A tiny groan as she resisted her instinct to push against him. Another louder one as she felt him moving only one muscle —a solid pulsing flex of his length as it lay part way inside her. God, she was starting to sweat. Her hands became slippery against the desk top.

“That boy wanted you, he was panting after ye. If I sent ye back in the room right now he’d be all over you again, his greedy hands touching what’s mine!” He rocked his hips, sliding a bit more forward and moaned with her.

“Who do ye belong to?” He demanded.

“You!”

“Aye, you do!” Jamie slammed all the way in without warning and both of them cried out in surprise as their bodies reacted.

“I mean to take my time, drive us both mad wi’ need.” He told her.

Jamie withdrew just as slowly, teasing once more on the way back. He did it a few more times to the same effect and then drove hard and deep again.

“Jamie!”  Claire’s inner muscles began to spasm and her eyes fluttered closed. His cock swelled in response to the rippling sensation.

“No!” Jamie slapped her bottom hard enough to get her attention, unfortunately that didn’t have the effect he’d hoped. Too late, he remembered how responsive she’d been at Whispers. He pulled out of her fully.

“This time it’s for me, do you understand?” He tugged her hair hard enough to override the pleasure she had been feeling.

 _Mmph_. She answered.

His tone was low and almost menacing as he fought for control of himself and of her. 

“Don’t you--” He thrust all the way back inside. “--dare come!”

 She moaned and bit the her hand to keep herself in check.  

“To take you from behind, that sweet arse of yours tempting me, looking down and watching my cock slide in and out.” He huffed, his body following his words. In and out, over and over, sweat breaking out on his forehead, between his shoulder blades, a tightening clench in his stomach. “To feel your body shiver, knowing how badly you need to come, how much you’re fighting against it, knowing you don’t dare disobey me. Feels so much better than I ever imagined, Claire.” He could feel her tremble.  

“I’m not..I can’t hold still.”

“Ye can.” He promised.

“No, oh God please!” Claire wailed in frustration.

“Christ, you get so jumpy when I do…that.” They made breathy noises together. “Ye need to rock against me, don’t you?” He asked her.

“Yes!” She grunted but didn’t dare do so.

His hands grabbed her hips and he started driving into her, short and fast. 

“Move with me!” He smiled as he watched her push off her hands and felt her pick up his rhythm. “Nuhuh. Mind what I told you. Not yet, Sassenach.” He managed to huff out. 

She was so close, as was he. He held her to him, stilling all movement as he rested his weight on her back. His mouth was over her ear.

“And when I’m right in the heart of you, I feel you tighten all around me, the beat and pulse of you holding me there, squeezing me, and I ken you’re my secret. Mine alone. I just want to bury myself as deep as I can and let go, spilling inside you over and over until you are so full of me you canna hold it any longer and hear you groan my name knowing ye can’t——.” 

Jamie canted his hips hard into her and she felt him start to spurt. She gave a muffled scream and his response was immediate. Her walls clenched down hard milking him making him lose his breath.

“—-stop yourself. Fuck, dinna stop, come for me...come for me, Claire.”

 


	4. A Naughty Scottie Christmas, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This particular MacDaddy and Claire Christmas story will not be shown on the Hallmark Channel this (or any other) year.

 

Claire sighed when she saw how he’d decorated the huge wrought iron bed that dominated the master suite in the cozy cabin he’d rented for their first Christmas together. The festive garland, smelling as if it had just been cut from the nearby wood, strung with iridescent white lights, wove its way cheerfully through each post, little red bows anchoring the decoration at each corner. Each bedpost had been hung with holiday stockings, complete with little jingle bells sewn into the cuffs and sparkling with glitter. She cast a sidelong glance at Jamie.

 

Jamie was smiling at her, gratified by the reaction his surprise had garnered. Claire was warm from her bubble bath, smelling of orange blossoms and wrapped in the wickedest white silk robe he’d ever seen. She was a rosy, baby soft pink from face to feet.  

 

It tickled him no end that his Sassenach was a sucker for the holidays. She got teary eyed at sappy Hallmark movies, sang along (quite badly) to every Christmas carol on the radio and, just before they’d escaped town for the snowy mountains, talked him into putting on a ridiculous Santa suit and bringing the children on the pediatric ward the presents she’d bought and they’d painstakingly wrapped in the three days leading up to their trip. He’d agreed to playing Mr. Claus in exchange for her playing Mrs. Claus tonight. 

 

She hadn’t quite finished her drink, he frowned seeing the ice cubes, a barbaric way to drink anything, he thinks. But he took the glass, and drained the last then nudged her forward toward the bed. She stopped in her tracks. He followed her gaze, Claire’s eyes were riveted on the long ends of each ribbon, widening as she took in the lassoed ends coiled neatly on the bedspread. Jamie slowly eased her robe off her body, letting it float to the floor in a whisper of expectation. His fingers caressed the tops of her shoulders then drove south toward her breasts. 

 

“All right, Sassenach?” Jamie asked. She nodded and Jamie slowly unbound her hair.  “What do ye want?” He says as he blows cold air against her neck, courtesy of the ice cubes he’s been thoughtfully rolling around on his tongue for the last minute. From his height looking down on her, he can see her nipples instantly react and her arms cover in gooseflesh. 

 

“I don’t know.” It is an honest answer, at least. Claire has stopped thinking, she can only stare hard at the strung boughs now knowing they are not a sweet holiday decoration but an elaborate restraint that Jamie has made for her. To hold and bind her in place. She is having trouble controlling the racing of her heart. 

 

She can feel his hand cupping her breast, knowing he senses the rapid pulse beneath. She helplessly leans back against him, her knees turning to jelly as the image of arms flung wide and feet tied spread eagle makes its way into her imagination, so overtaken she doesn’t even notice his rock hard length resting against the notch of her buttocks. 

 

“Me,” he asks her, “to decide the matter for ye, then?” 

 

“Please,” and Jamie knows she means it. His arms reach up and darkness descends. Claire panics, trying to rip off the blindfold, not expecting it and spinning around to try and face him, but his hands are gripping hers firmly. 

 

“Shh,” Jamie whispers gentle words, one he’d use talking to a crying child. “Ye need this, mo nighean donn, tis fine, lass, I ken I’ve let ye go too long wi’out and yer fighting the way of it, aye?” Jamie kisses her, reminds her she is safe in this place of passion and promise with him.  

 

Caught up in the end of the year planning and merry making, they’d been spending a lot of time together as a couple, growing stronger by attachment and blurring their arrangement. He wanted to remind her that in the bedroom, behind closed doors, they spoke a different language, one exclusively of their own invention. He would take charge, and she would let him, no-- beg him-- to do it. Jamie steals a kiss. “Alright?” he whispers into her open mouth. 

 

“Yes,” she answers and her arms relax instantly. He drops his hold at once and lets her stand in a silent agony of anticipation, blindfolded and waiting. 

 

Claire can hear sounds all around her. The hiss of the fire at the far end of the room, the sound of an instrumental channel set very low, the fabric of Jamie’s….shirt? pants? Sliding to the floor. The rattle of a drink in a glass. 

 

The unexpected bite of his mouth on her breast causes her to scream. She snaps her mouth closed at once realizing it was the cool ice on his tongue and not the press of teeth that was touching her nipple. 

 

“No’ screaming, Sassenach.” He warns her sternly. “We dinna ken who might be next door, listening.  Ye must be verra quiet.” 

 

“Sorry.” She whispers instantly contrite and allows herself to be led to the bed. She is lain down and scooted a little as Jamie positions her. She feels the snap of the rope as it ensnares her wrists. Her entire body is lain open for him. He ties one ankle cuff, only one, as adjusts her posture to bring her other leg closer to her body, bending at the knee. He sits down next to her on the mattress and she can hear the jingle bells on the stockings, a merry sound. 

 

Jamie sees the smile playing on her lips. He regrets the need of the blindfold, for her eyes by the glow of string lights would surely be beautiful but she is already stopping his breath and he must focus on her body not his now. 

 

“Sassenach, yer job is to lie still, I dinna want to hear the stockings, aye?” For emphasis Jamie bounces the bed and they ring again. Claire is nodding. “Move yer hands a bit so ye ken the limits.” He encourages. He is gratified to see that it doesn’t take much to set them off. She will be held tightly under reign tonight. “Now yer legs.” He says. Claire is still for a moment, one leg is bound, but she does find that using her other leg, foot digging hard into the mattress she actually does have a fairly wide range of movement that doesn’t set off the bells. She’s a quick study, Jamie notes, not for the first time. 

 

“If ye can be good, Sassenach, ye get on the nice list. If no’ well... ye willna like it.” 

 

Claire thinks about joking that she’d rather be on his naughty list but then remembers a few of his more creative punishments and changes her mind. When they were together they usually went out to eat for dinner, and Jamie always made her breakfast. Thankfully, he rarely asked for her domestic assistance. A bad cook in the best of circumstances, being forced to prepare a dinner using only a spoon and a pan with no knife or spatula, no measuring cups, no other kitchen gadgets, had been almost as torturous as the look on his face when she finally produced something edible enough to present to him for dinner. His was a diabolical mind. He’d known very well that the humiliation of being forced to to do something badly would bring her memorable shame.  And yet….he’d eaten every bite of that horrible dinner, thanked her until she practically passed out and cleaned the kitchen spotless while she slept. 

 

She sighs and nods her head, letting him know she is ready for him to begin. Claire closes her eyes beneath the blindfold, finding it helps her relax more. He blew cold air across her breasts and she shivers. She hears a slurp and realizes he must be sucking on a piece of ice. Her nipples contract to tiny, hard beads and her center squeezes, doing involuntary kegels in anticipation. The lips blew lower, across her obliques, hip bones, belly, cleanly shaved mound. He was getting closer and her biceps contract. 

 

Claire feels his fingers travelling up her calf, pausing to tickle that sweet spot behind her knee and then walk themselves slowly up the inside of each leg.  His hands are so large he can almost encircle each one. Her thighs contract, trapping him, forcing him to stay where he is and he stops. 

 

She gives a shocked cry as he yanks her legs wide apart. Her hands are balled into fists and the ribbon bites into her wrists. The wrought iron headboard is shaking.  Claire hears the bells at once and hisses a curse. 

 

Jamie, to her surprise, ignores the transgression, instead, he places one hell of a cold, ice laden hand across the inner sole of her tied foot.  Claire remembers that she can, indeed, move her lower half without causing noise. She forces herself to relax her upper body but allows her foot to engage into the mattress and hold tension.

 

When a frozen digit touches her core she is half-way ready. A hiss of sensation, a canting of her lower body and a panting moan keeps the bells silent. The pure sensation of touch overtakes her mind. 

 

A clockwise stroke, a circular counter using almost the right amount of pressure, but never quite enough. Claire’s nerve endings anticipating where he’ll move next, needing more than he will give, she thinks she might go mad with her wanting. He is playing the tune and she has no choice but to dance, letting him lead, her hips rise up in a silent plea.  Jamie giving and then denying her relief, over and over until she is trembling. His hands feel huge as they play against her, everywhere but  _ there _ . 

 

Claire can feel his breath hovering just over her core. Cool air blows between her legs. But he pulls slightly back and takes his hand with him. Her lips part, trying to imagine what her body must look like to Jamie, who doesn’t speak at all. She knows he loves to watch her helpless before him, he craves the control, her supplication, almost as much as she needs to be left to his sweet mercy. It is getting easier now, to relax and enjoy the feel of those meandering digits. Her body craves his familiar touch, warm and sure. But she needs more. So much more. 

 

Her wrists have twisted the fabric of the ribbons around so that she is on a short leash, her fingers enjoy the feel of the silken cords. She snakes both hands around the cold metal posts of the bed now to allow her to press her center up and into him, urging him to stop playing with her and get down to more serious business. She is in an agony of want. Yet she cannot reach him, her bound foot prevents her from chasing him. Too late she realizes maneuver will shake the bed too much. He hears the bells at the same time she does and everything stops. 

 

A firm and unexpected smack hits her right between her legs, the sting of surprise making it hurt worse than it should. 

 

“Lay back down on the bed, Sassenach. That’ll do ye no good.” His voice is harsh from disuse. He pauses, the hand that struck her hasn’t moved an inch from her center nor has he resumed his delicious exploration of her body. She feigns compliance, but should have known better. “All the way, I’ll no’ tell ye again,” Jamie says and cups her core ever so gently, moving the whole hand and causing a bolt of pleasure to shoot through her. Her body collapses in acquience and she spreads her legs as wide as she can, a non-verbal apology and plea for forgiveness. She hears that Scottish noise of approval and whimpers in reply. 

 

A lightning quick move and his lips ambush her, a passionate claiming. Her tongue wants to devour his, wants him to stay, wants him to dive straight back down to lick her from stem to stern, and she gives him her cries along with her lips. 

 

“There’s a lass,” he coos in approval. His teeth biting gently on the lobe, distracting her so at first she doesn’t register the fingers plunging hard and deep inside her until he is kissing her again and her whole body arches into him.

“Jamie!” She tries to say, but it comes out as a moan. She feels a rush of wetness between her legs and she can hear the sound of it as he rubs her in even, measured strokes. His thumb pushing on her mound manages to convey the message that she must settle and roll back down on the bed and she at last finds herself able to comply.

 

“I wish ye could see how beautiful ye are, mo nighean donn. Yer face is tilted up, and yer lips are swollen,” Jamie gently traces a finger along her lower lip, “ye canna move more than an inch and ye’ve tied yerself in even more knots. The ribbon is marking yer skin and that looks so…...” An unexpected invasion as the finger reaches into her mouth. Claire sucks it in at once, pulling as deep as she can, dancing her tongue around and around. Jamie breathes out, “Ah Dhia!” 

 

His hand at her center doesn’t move for long moments. She can’t see him but knows his eyes are staring at her puckered mouth. God, she wishes her hands were free to do this right. Her hips begin to thrust against his fingers urging him to move in her once more. Brought back to an awareness of Claire’s desire, Jamie’s fingers start to move with confident sureness and she moans, ending in a loud wail that disgorges his finger when his thumb presses on her clit. He kisses her hard and strokes her jawbone. She can feel the wetness left from her mouth as he caresses her face and she turns to try and catch him and suckle once more.

 

“No. Let me play wi ye. Again, mo nighean donn, roll yer hips. When ye shiver like that,” He does something that causes heat to coil tighter in her belly, lodging something in her throat and she can feel her release near the base of her spine. She is panting helplessly now thrusting over and over again. The timbre of his voice infused with an edge of desperate longing she doesn’t think he is aware of but which puts her orgasm suddenly in reach. 

 

“Please,” she whispers, urgent now. He is quiet for too long and her rising fire starts to cool and the moment is slipping out of her grasp. She bucks her legs harder trying to encourage him but knows if she explicitly makes a demand of his voice, he will never do it. When the turn and curl of his hand and the kiss on her neck doesn’t push her over, Jamie finally catches on that she needs something more and his hands retreat entirely leaving her breathing hard and in a haze of aborted lift off.  

 

_ Part II -Definitely not called When I Think About You I Touch My Elf- posting later this week  _


	5. All The Jingle Ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to circumstances beyond my control.....my two shot has turned into a three fer last chapter to be posted later this week......MacDaddy-- the gift that just keeps giving...

 

“New rules. I am going to release your foot, now,” he tells her. “Curl over onto yer side, Sassenach.” Jamie’s hands guide her into position. His own hand hits the headboard and the bells jingle. Claire moans.  She can practically hear him thinking. She wants to huff in frustration, wants to demand, wants to hit him but more than all of that she wants to hear his voice as he loses his fight for control. 

 

She is squeezing her legs together, trying to relieve some of the building tension.

 

“I’m keeping my hand on the top rail,” he tells her. “If ye can make me rattle the bed and the bells go off, ye can have yer choice of prize,” He tells her. 

 

“Hmm?” Claire asks in breathless anticipation. 

 

“I can untie you or give ye a present.” 

 

“I don’t want to be untied.” Claire tells him at once. She wants the release she had been denied. Her muscles ache thinking of the orgasm she has been denied. Arms locked still, hip canting to reach him, the edge of the ribbon across the meaty part of her palm, the way he flicked inside her. The tone of the words that went silent as he kissed her neck, when all she’d needed was to hear the sound of  _ that  _ voice, pitched low and rising higher.  She knows she has surprised him. He takes his time in replying. 

 

“As ye wish, but ye must earn your prize.” She senses his body moving closer to her, the heat of him and that special body wash she teasingly calls ginger spice. Skin against her closed lips. Heavier than his finger. But she is at the wrong angle to do any proper justice to the demand.  

 

Claire adjusts her body and leans forward, without her arms to use for bracing she must lift from her midsection. Never has she regretting skipping her ab workout more. Restraint play is a staple of their sex life and Claire is enjoying the added uncertainty of the blindfold. Her lips part, he’s on the tip of her tongue when she hears the command. 

 

“Wait,” he says it soft as a whisper. Jamie rarely raises his voice, she’s noticed. He doesn’t need to. The silence stretches on. If not for the heat of him, she’d wonder where he’d gone. Her stomach muscles are clenched tight, she knows she’ll be feeling a dull twist in her obliques all next week. 

 

“Please, Jamie, I want to make you feel good.” 

 

Jamie is staring down at her, she is shaking slightly, her hair refusing to sit quietly, exploding in silken twists, shining in the soft glow of the string lights. What he can see of her face is flushed, the taut lines of her neck, shoulder and belly coiling upwards. His balls feel leaden and the craving for her hardens his cock even more, he watches a few droplets of moisture appear at the head. 

 

“What are ye proposing, Sassenach?” It is said with some effort and he knows her body well enough to know she has just clenched the inner walls of her sex hearing his tone. 

 

“I could lick you.” She breathes and hears a low gritty chuckle. 

 

“Where?” He wants to hear naughty words coming from those lips, naming body parts in anything but the dry clinical terminology she’d been trained to use.

 

He feathers his cock against her lower lip, further tempting her, knowing she won't dare to suck him in just yet, but God, he wants her to, wants her to misbehave so he can unleash what he feels for her right now. Jamie has to back down. 

 

Mesmerized, he watches her lower lip curl and open even wider as he shifts his weight back on his heels. The sound she makes almost undoes him.  

 

“I ken it’s no’ easy for ye, Dr. Beauchamp... to get nasty with that mouth.”  

 

He watches her bite her lip, torn between embarrassment and obedience. When she speaks, it’s so unexpected that he feels like he’s been sucker punched. 

 

“Touch yourself for me, Jamie.”  Claire hears the sound of him spluttering and basks in the momentary glory of rendering him speechless.  For the first time since being led to the bed, she wants to rip the blindfold off and look at him. “I’m getting so hot, imagining your hand s-stroking your,” Claire’s cheeks bloom red, she can’t quite do it, “yourself. Do you sometimes when you are alone? Thinking about being inside my warm, wet mouth, how my tongue---”

 

“Wheesht!” Jamie growls, desperately needing to collect himself. 

 

Something blooms in his gut that feels as close to pure joy as he will ever get. There will never be  _ anyone  _ like her. Ever.  He is grateful Claire can’t see him in this moment, gripping himself-- literally and metaphorically-- as if by doing so he can regain the upper hand that she has so masterfully taken from him. He notices her trying to hold her laugh inside, but oh how she is enjoying this! Claire has been a complete surprise and he finds himself most pleased with her progress to date. Jamie stares at his hand on the headboard, seriously thinking of giving in and losing...but no, she deserves a clear victory. Lord knows she has earned it these past months.

 

“Well now, aren’t ye a fine tease, then? Mayhap I’ll do as ye suggest and play wi’ myself while I let ye listen, Sassenach.” He warns. “Then, once I’m done I’ll just leave ye as ye are to think about the fact that your actions have vera serious consequences.”  

 

Jamie makes a point of sloppily licking his hand, so she can hear it, letting her be in no doubt of the fact that he is doing what she suggested, in his own way, on his terms and leaving her out of it. “A shame, really. If ye had been on the nice list, I had a special gift for you.” Jamie pants, playing it up a bit. 

 

“Please….” Claire can picture him, inches from her, thumb passing over the head, following downward, cupping his balls and firmly pressing back again.  

 

“You still aching for me, lass? Ye must be needing some relief. And aye, I _ am _ picturing what ye look like with your mouth full of me. God, I love that wee gagging sound ye make sometimes,” Jamie is getting a little lost in this fantasy. 

 

Claire whimpers, and he sees the way she is moving her legs, the expression of desire she wears. He realizes that this is what she’d been craving, why she didn’t come earlier. He should have known with the blindfold on she would need more audible stimulation and a small part of him feels like he has failed her, wants to make it up to her. 

 

“When yer good, Sassenach, yer verra good. So pretty, so obedient. Ye swivel the tip of yer tongue on me just so, mmphm. And sometimes yer teeth gimme a wee nip, just—“ 

 

“Please….Jamie…” She whispers. 

 

Mmphm? A non-committal reply. 

 

“I want to taste you.” Claire blurts out growing desperate. 

 

“Aye? Use yer words, Sassenach,” Jamie’s watching her through slitted eyes, “the dirty ones, mind.”

 

“I love when I suck you inside and wiggle my tongue underneath you. It’s  like sliding into a groove. Like you were made for my mouth.” Claire tells him. 

 

_ Jesus _ , he has gone spitness watching her wet her lips. Then she describes in fine, filthy detail what it is like to give him a blowjob. 

 

He hasn’t stopped moving his fingers along his length. His need is too great. He almost loses it when she says,  “You taste so different on top, feels smooth and soft. Do you like it more when I dab the tip on the head or when I sweep my tongue all along the shaft?” Jamie can’t formulate an answer other than a grunt.

 

“I enjoy both,” she tells him, “but my favorite thing to do is rub my lips over that long vein running all the way down, flicking back and forth on my tongue.  You know you always make the same exact sound when I press on that one spot just below the rim? It always puts butterflies in my stomach when I hear it.” Claire sighs lustily and Jamie can’t hold back any longer, he needs to feel her. Now. He presses the head of his cock very firmly against her mouth. 

 

“Do it,” comes out in a throaty plea that has Claire’s heartbeat accelerating. 

 

It’s an order she is eager to obey and she hums as she inhales him. She knows he is replaying her words in his head as she works him over and she is diligent in her efforts, pulling him in as far as her restraints and position will allow. She forgets about how sore her abs and shoulders will be tomorrow, forgets about everything but wanting to pleasure him. 

 

She chokes a bit, but knows he loves it and closes down purposefully as she draws her head back. She does it two more times and catches the faint whisper of a ping. Then another even as he forgets about holding the headboard and brings both hands to hold her head. The effect eases her tense muscles considerably as he takes charge of the movement, chasing the heat. She knows he’s lost in the sight of her. She doesn’t let up until she hears that hitch in his breathing. One last pass and when she bobs back up she does it, pressing that sweet, sweet spot she has come to know will set him off. 

 

For the first time, Jamie is aware of the way he is groaning, recognizes the familiarity of it and can’t stop the rush running through him. Even after he is done, his hips continue to thrust against the side of the mattress, unable to stop caressing her chin and cheek with his half-hard cock. Jamie is only vaguely aware of what he is doing, but finds it incredibly satisfying to look at her skin painted with small damp streaks of him. He is breathing hard, sweating and his senses slowly return. 

 

“Christ, Claire!” He says when he finds his voice. She trembles hearing him use her name. “Jesus.” Leaning down he hears the bells and can’t help but smile. 

 

She squeals in surprise when he kisses her, he is humming against her lips. She blushes knowing he is tasting himself as he roams over her lips and finds it exotic and beautiful that he is doing so. The smell of sex is overpowering and her feeling of frustration returns.  He cups her face in his hands and rubs her cheek to cheek like a contented cat. It suddenly occurs to him that she must be very uncomfortable. 

 

He eases her back in the bed, gently cradling her like she was a fragile, breakable thing, checking her arms for any evidence of circulation issues. He can see the ribbons are too tight and makes a noise of regret. She feels his fingers plucking at the wrapped ribbons as he undoes the knots she has unwittingly made. He gently rubs a finger, then two under them. His warm hands move on to massage her shoulders, neck and back. 

 

“Still want to be in the ribbons?” He asks very softly. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Jamie starts to lift the blindfold.

 

“Leave it, please?” She requests. His fingers hesitate, but he drops the cloth back in place. 

 

“May I take care of you now, lass?” Jamie is acting as if her yes is a gift to him and she gives it freely. 

 

_ Next chapter, definitely not to be named On First Day of Christmas, My Tulip Gave To Me….. _


	6. Sleep In Heavenly Peas

Jamie starts with digging thumbs into the arches of her feet, a warm oozing oil on his fingertips that feels surprisingly light, almost no residue when he moves on, traveling upwards (shin and calf, the sore spot between thigh and knee cap, the ticklish line that starts halfway down her thigh). She can hear him humming along with the radio but neither of them speaks. Claire gasps when his fingernails start to carve swirling, irregular patterns, like a child with finger paints and she grows curious. She starts the sentence a couple times only to realize she hasn’t quite found the right way to put it.

 

“Tell me what you see,” she finally says. Jamie’s fingers pause mid-stroke.

 

“Yer skin is almost as pale as the linen on the bed,” he says. His thumb rubs over a spot by her ankle. “Ye missed a wee patch wi’ the razor here,” then a finger tickles her underarm, “and here.” Claire shrieks and kicks him, not completely by accident, as she tries to squirm away. He chuckles.

 

Jamie places his palm over her stomach, lazily rubbing the roll she never seems able to get rid of regardless of her level of fitness. “It looks like you’ve been enjoying yourself at all the holiday parties.” Claire snorts at this, taking no offense for she can hear the teasing tone of his voice. “Yer lips are swollen and red like wi’ lipstick but we kissed that off long ago. When ye saw the bed….” Claire hears Jamie take a deep breath to steady himself, “the glow of the lights on you as I lay you down ‘twas beautiful...but no’ as beautiful as yer wrist when I tied the first knot.” Claire feels the brush of his lips against her wrist, just at the spot he’d spoken of and he flicked his tongue between the criss cross of the ribbons. “We’ve talked about how ye feel when the bindings go on...but have I ever told ye what it does to me?”  

 

Jamie’s voice was a hushed whisper and he was gentle, so terribly gentle with her now. Using just his fingertips to ensure their continued connection. Claire can’t speak and shakes her head.

 

“Out in the real world, you must be the one in charge, aye? No’ just because of yer title or education but because you’ve earned the right to be. You hold life and death in the palm of your hand.” At this he nips one of her fingertips and she shivers. “Yer as proud as Lucifer, ruthlessly strong. But when ye come to me…..” Jamie held her palm to his face, leaning in so she could reach him, she feels his jaw lock tight, hears him swallow like something is caught in his throat, ”Ye do it on yer knees.”

 

Claire moans. His words were said with such reverence, slicing through her and squeezing her heart. “You understand.” She rubs her thumb against the small line of his jaw that she can reach and lets out a satisfied sigh.

 

“Oh, aye. I do. I canna tell ye what it does to me to see you lying helpless like this, knowing I could do anything to you and ye willing to let me.” Claire’s sex quivers and she bites her lip, needing some pain, chasing sensory input.  “When I see yer mind let go and all ye ken is the rush and everything I do pushes ye higher.” He pinches her nipple. Claire lets out a little squeal and writhes and Jamie feels an echoing heaviness in his balls. “Och! But what am I thinking? I haven’t given you the gift I promised.”

 

Claire is conscious of the sudden absence of his weight on the bed. A shuffling about the room and then a knee or perhaps he sat down? Near her feet.

 

The sudden sensation of ice cold between her legs. Then an ever sharper  pinch on her nipple stole her breath “Jesus, what are you doing?” She pants. Pain and exquisite pleasure were overwhelming her higher functions. “Please...it hurts.”

 

“Ye ken the safe word.” Jamie reminds her, unconcerned.

 

He knows she needs him to keep going, to bring her to that place of ecstasy which happens so often in a BDSM relationship. Over time he’d learned such relationships weren’t like anything in the normal world. They were intense, deeply connected, and they provided a structure of rules, duties, obligations and rights that made more sense to him that the chaotic confusion of living in the so-called real world where interactions seemed artificial, shallow, disposable.

 

As the dom in their relationship, it is his responsibility to lead both of them past pain, past pleasure and into the deepest part of themselves. Where the focus turns inward, and allows the rest of the world to fall away, to the point where even he and she cease to exist as separate beings. The intimacy of their connection so much more than sexual release.  He ignores her protestations, moving her a little further out of her comfort zone.

 

“Ye like it when I push it up?” He asks, getting a muffled sound in response. “Or down?” At this Claire bucks against the ropes. A flick of his finger against her breast has her hissing out a breath. He moves the toy inside her again. This time she squeezes her legs together so he can’t pull back.

 

“What are you doing to me?” She asks. “I’ve..never felt...oh God…” The rest of what she was trying to say is lost as she twists her hips up in counterpoint to his movement.

 

“Ah,” Jamie wants to respond but he can’t seem to think and act at the same time. “G-spot stimulator.” He finally manages.   

 

He wriggles it gently back and forth. It is smooth and curved, large round surfaces at either end, much heavier than a vibrator or traditional dildo, freezing when first touched, but would warm quickly with her body temperature. The design is low tech and has only had one purpose: to reach the internal bundle of nerves in a more direct way than he can with fingers or cock. Jamie and Claire would need to figure out angle, pressure, and rhythm together.

 

Jamie focuses on memorizing her body’s reactions as he does with every new experience, finding the edge between sensations, coaxing her to ride the space between. He alternates short pumps with long sweeps. Whenever he hits the right spot, he can see it rocket up her spine and she arches, totally in the zone, nerve endings fully engaged. As soon as the pleasure strikes, he uses his teeth on her inner thigh, stomach, ribs, always mindful of her kick. Over and over the pain with the pleasure.

 

Claire is completely his and he is entirely aware of the privilege attendant in that gift. Jamie knew most people didn’t understand the power exchange from outside the community. It wasn’t as simple as a Dom having an alpha streak and a sub wanting to be controlled. He often laughed about the naivete of normal folks (so-called vanillas in his world).  If Jamie is the center of Claire’s universe, it is only because she thinks he is worthy of it, not because he does.

 

Claire is hyper aware of him, and finds not being able to see adds a new element to their play, each little bite on her skin a surprise. Each cant of the toy inside her deliciously intense. The world narrows down to just them. He watches her carefully, the way her body twitches and jumps, her breathing, the taut lines of the ribbons, how her hips move with his hand. He adjusts the nipple clamp to the other breast, knowing it adds a layer of needed sharp, hard edge. On and on he pushes, dismantling her, tearing down her walls, rebuilding her again anew. She is shuddering once more. There is no finale but a rolling continuum.

 

“Please, please, oh, please.” She chants. Jamie kisses her and then rests his forehead against her, enjoying the panting noises she makes against his mouth. “More,” she begs and he gives it to her.

 

The only thing that matters is what he is doing to her now. Jamie flicks the nipple clamp with his other hand and she cries out. They are both suspended in time, only the pure sensation of this moment exists.  She feels him shift his weight. Then his mouth lowers over her nipple and his tongue is playing with the clasp, a wicked jolt goes through her. Jamie’s other hand brushes between her legs and he pulls the toy back. He can feel his cock rolling between her legs and the linen on the bed. Each time he touches her thigh, she pushes her sex closer to his body. He is breathing deep and humming in her ear so she can hear what she is doing to him. He is fast approaching his point of no return. He shifts his arm between her legs pulling up with force, sucking with even more force.

 

“Jamie!” Her scream does it for him. He releases her breast, using his teeth to remove the device and deftly unties the ribbons. He  hovers for an instant above her, feeling her continuing to spasm. A roaring in his ears overtakes the pitch of her cries, and he slides into her. The sensation of him fitting against her fully, the smell of him, the springy hair over chest and groin, cheek and legs prickles against her sensitive skin. Jamie is shaking too much to make his hands obey and he doesn’t bother with the blindfold. He knows only that he must drive himself to completion.

 

“Oh,” Claire reaches for him, craning her face up and into him, instinctively fitting her mouth against the soft spot between neck and shoulder.

 

“Bite me, Sassenach.” He tells her on breathless thrusts, the sweat of their combined body heat helping him move. She discovers her hands are free and he feels her heels digging into his haunches as she pulls herself up to reach him. His own hands slide down under hers and all his weight is bearing down on her now. He pulls the two halves of her bottom upwards and pushes deep into her. Her teeth clench on his skin and he comes on a hoarse shout that he couldn’t control even with all his considerable skill. Still, she keeps her lips firmly on him and he hears the desperate moan trapped in her throat. He is still hard, she is covered in him and pushes a finger into her ass. Claire bolts against him, her teeth releasing him at once, her body racking with unexpected force.

 

Then she goes limp, and she is floating, the adrenaline rush, the cortisol, the physical release equal to that of chemicals flooding her brain. Jamie comes back to himself at once to help her come down, knowing she has lost all awareness of time and space. He feels an unexpected welling of tears in his eyes, and is grateful for the blindfold over hers. When she starts shaking from the after affects, her own tears flowing down her cheeks, he carefully removes the blindfold. Wipes her face, kisses her tenderly. He knows this will be a rough recovery for them both, having pushed one another so hard and felt too much.

 

“Ye good, Sassenach?”  

 

“Jamie,” she says in a small voice.

 

“I’m here, _mo nighean donn_. Shhh. I have ye, such a good lass.” He rocks her for a good ten minutes before he feels her start to stir.

 

Claire blinks up in confusion at the sudden return of all her senses and registers the fact that Jamie is now under her, resting his back against the headboard and is holding her against him. He is rubbing feeling back into her arms and massaging her neck and shoulders. He hands her some juice, placing the straw in her mouth, wanting to bring her blood sugar up quickly. When she is done he is the one that takes the glass and lays it down in reach of her just in case she wants more later. He starts talking to her, low and soft, praising her, thanking her. His fingers run through her messy curls, and she sighs deeply and lies boneless against him, utterly at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost named it He Came, He Thawed, She Conquered..... Thanks for reading it!


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